


Special Interrogation Techniques

by Anonymous



Category: The Matrix (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Horror, Finger Sucking, Interrogation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Games, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Sex Toys, Surreal, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28614705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A kinky rewrite of the interrogation scene from the first Matrix film. Agents x Reader, very explicit.
Relationships: Agent Smith (The Matrix)/Reader
Kudos: 10
Collections: Anonymous





	Special Interrogation Techniques

You scream into a gag of your own warped flesh. Both your arms and legs are pinned, and no matter how much you twitch and thrash, there's no chance of escape. It's almost amusing, how the only thing you can think of is the tingling sensation under your skin, deep inside your core, heat bubbling up to the surface in the form of a faint tinge of red on your cheeks. Here you are, in certain danger, and you cannot help but get aroused.

Oh, you'd toyed with him like you would with one of your weekend partners, putting on that show of disobedience that men who loved to be in control despised so much. Or rather, it seemed to vex them only until they had you pinned down and squirming, just like this. Then a vicious smile would creep across their faces, as you would do your best to hide your own expression. Your hunch was right on the money. The agent was just that kind of man. He relished wresting what little control you had left in an instant - although, he made it perfectly clear when you sat down that he was merely tugging at the strings holding you up, wondering which one would get you to nod in compliance. They knew everything, apparently, which wouldn't have mattered - but the way his tone settled when he described your escapades in those clubs, presumably as a form of blackmail, froze you to your spot. Not that you really cared about your current job, and there was no one in your personal life that could be scandalized like that. But the knowledge he held in the palm of his hand was dangerous on a level you couldn't fully articulate. You changed your mind. Whatever he was, he was not a man - an exceptional mimicry that even understood how to beckon you closer, persuade you without threats - the wolf dressed in wolves' clothing having the sheep's best interests in mind. 

And now, with him standing over you, leering at you with a mixture of disgust and almost scientific curiosity on his face, you strained harder than ever before.

It was as though your every thought was plastered on the pages of a book that he was casually leafing through. You'd never felt so observed in your life. Though he'd been in the process of opening a strange case, he'd since shut it. Change of plans. Whatever horror he had in store, there was a new one awaiting you. They'd torn your shirt open for reasons that you didn't even suppose were the obvious ones. Though they were clearly capable of all kinds of cruelty, it was not wretched violation that awaited you. It was being taken apart, piece by piece, until you were needy and pliant enough for confession. The whimper that left your lips when his fingers brushed over your nipple was enough to confirm his hypothesis. Human beings were blessed with such weaknesses. 

Your back arched into his touch, only to go limp with frustration as it left you again. There were no excuses, nothing to defend yourself with. No words would be coming out of your mouth tonight, or perhaps ever. That thought sent a shudder down your spine, but was quickly forgotten when his fingers traced over your skin with a feather light touch, before deftly unbuttoning your pants. Biting your cheek was a futile gesture in light of your increasingly frantic squirming. Each and every one of your silent prayers had been ignored. They'd been surveiling you, of course they knew. They never had to torture you into compliance the traditional way, for there were far more effective methods. It almost reassured you, the thought that an end would eventually come to this interrogation - until you felt yourself being dragged back, cold metal handcuffs clicking around your wrists. Not only were your arms pulled taut against the table leg, but that left the other two... whatever they were, with a free arm each. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that this was only an extended nightmare.

Your descent into madness was subtle at first. Probing, testing your sensitivity. And my, you were responsive, bucking your hips whenever they found a particularly tender area, the nape of your neck, the softness of your inner thighs. Yet you kept up your futile pretense in the face of clear evidence, preserving your dignity, if only for a moment. Not seeing would have made it worse, but knowing you were being observed was far more humiliating. You'd barely even noticed the liquid cold sensation dripping between your legs until it had solidified, and you would have screamed at the sight of what they had attached to you if not for the sudden warm, delightful buzzing it produced filling your entire core with joy. It was embarassing how close you were already, and their calculated, precise touches, combined with the pleasure building uncontrollably from the device between your legs made your vision swim. The fabric of your surroundings melted away as you approached your climax. 

And you waited. And you continued to wait. Until you realized that whatever that device was, it seemed firmly intent on keeping you right on the edge, preventing you from ever reaching satisfaction. And you cried out as much as you could, sobbing and begging incoherently through your gag. Still, the only indication you received that he had heard you was a faint look of amusement.

You weren't sure if what followed lasted for minutes, hours or days. Aside from the occasional comment, instruction, or sly taunt from their leader, only your needy whimpers filled the room. He'd since unsealed your mouth, allowing his two subordinates to use you as they pleased while he simply directed the action. It would have been so much simpler if you had cooperated as he'd asked, he'd told you in that strange cadence. Now they would have to make certain to ensure your cooperation. Why had they pulled you into custody anyways? Did it matter? Why hadn't they relented, knowing you would do anything to have relief? A truly dreadful thought floated past the brimming tears that filled your vision. They could keep going forever. After all, none of this was real. They would need no rest, no recuperation. You didn't seem to be running out of stamina either. The only limit was your sanity.

Throughout all of this, you'd barely noticed that your pants had been fully removed, whatever flimsy undergarments you had on pushed aside. The fingers playing around your slick entrance seemed to take up more and more of your attention. You weren't sure why, and then you realized - the device was gone. You were still pinned, of course, but there was no other sensation than the pulsing, throbbing heat that consumed your mind now. When he reached in and asked you, no, ordered you to suck your own juices off his fingers, you complied, hazy, whimpering and still needy as ever. You would do anything they would have told you to do. But you didn't have to do anything except for squeeze yourself around those fingers, craving more to be stretched out and fucked completely, body and mind. Soon, you got your wish. Only soft gagging noises left you now, as your hips greedily lifted to match his thrusts, your throat filled completely by the youngest of the trio. Glassy eyes now filled with gratitude and praise, you continued to take thrust after thrust. And when you finally reached the most intense orgasm of your life, reality crashing down around you into brilliant green code, you thanked your lucky stars and prayed that this moment would never end. 

**Author's Note:**

> An older fic from the author of A Chance Encounter. help


End file.
